


xx pro or valencia

by crunchrapsupreme



Series: bokuroo week 2017 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, BoKuroo Week, BoKuroo Week 2017, Clubbing, Dancing, M/M, just picture #selfie by the chainsmokers playing on repeat and thats this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: “You were moping,” Oikawa says, rolling his eyes. “I needed to get you out of the apartment before your negative vibes rotted all my plants.”“I was not moping.”“You ate all of my energy bars and then took a bunch of power naps in between marathoning House Hunters,” Oikawa looks up and blinks at him blankly. “You only watch House Hunters alone when you’re moping.”Kuroo can’t really argue with that.--written for day 4: improvising & day 5: neon lights of bokuroo week





	

**Author's Note:**

> bokuto is pure. also i merged 2 prompts cause im behind lol

“Do you know the hashtag for this place?” Oikawa asks, tapping away at his phone. “I need to tag my selfie so we can get bottle service.”

Kuroo narrows his eyes, crossing his arms when a gust of cool air causes goosebumps to litter his skin. “How the fuck would I know?  _ You’re  _ the one who dragged me here.”

“You were moping,” Oikawa says, rolling his eyes. “I needed to get you out of the apartment before your negative vibes rotted all my plants.”

“I was not moping.”

“You ate all of my energy bars and then took a bunch of power naps in between marathoning House Hunters,” Oikawa looks up and blinks at him blankly. “You only watch House Hunters alone when you’re  _ moping _ .”

Kuroo can’t really argue with that, so he sighs and leans against the railing. They’ve been standing in line for about twenty minutes now, downtown at some club that Oikawa managed to drag him to. It’s chilly outside, and Kuroo zips up his hoodie, shoving his hands in his pockets as Oikawa snaps another selfie. 

“Shit, the lighting is so bad out here,” Oikawa complains, pouting as he stares at his phone. “How is the DJ going to recognize me if I can’t tag a clear picture of myself?”

“The problems you face in life constantly impress me.” Kuroo deadpans, wincing when Oikawa elbows him in the side. 

“Just because you got dumped doesn’t mean you can suck the fun out of everything now,” Oikawa says, and then in an oddly affectionate gesture, he throws an arm around Kuroo’s shoulder. “I never liked the guy anyways, so I personally think this is a blessing in disguise.”

Kuroo grins a bit. “You only hated him because he told you YouTube wasn’t an actual platform for a professional.”

Oikawa frowns, his expression turned sour. “Honestly, fuck him.”

Kuroo sighs again, and Oikawa bumps their hips together. “Seriously though, just try and have some fun tonight, okay? You’re a free, single man now, Tetsu-chan! Take advantage of it!”

“I think I’d like to take advantage of that IHOP we passed on the way here, to be honest.”

Oikawa pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just get inside and get a couple drinks in you. Or, you know, ten. Ten drinks could work.”

 

\--

 

The music is loud, and Kuroo’s not sure if the entry-fee of forty fucking dollars was  _ really _ worth it, but Oikawa skips over straight to the DJ booth after shoving a cocktail in Kuroo’s hand, and with the way Oikawa’s face lights up at the dude manning the music, Kuroo figures cheering him up wasn’t Oikawa’s only task for the night. 

The music is a mix of techno and modern remixes, and it’s not terrible, but it’s nothing to write home about either. It seems to be keeping the crowd moving though, and as more people flood in, the place fills up pretty fast. Kuroo ends up downing his drink relatively quickly, deciding to heed Oikawa’s advice tonight as he goes to grab another. The alcohol is already lightening the bleakness over his heart mildly, and Kuroo winces as he swallows down a shot of expensive tequila. His wallet is already weeping at him.

He was only dating the guy for two months, but Kuroo has a problem with getting attached way too quickly and falling way too hard. Oikawa is right, kind of. The guy was nothing to brag about, but he was sweet when he needed to be, and Kuroo longed for the company of it. They didn’t have a whole lot in common except for their majors, which is how they met, and Kuroo knows he can’t base an entire relationship off of one common denominator, but that doesn’t mean it’ll stop him from trying. 

Kuroo doesn’t know how to dance (at least not until he's about a level seven on the sobriety scale, and right now he’s maybe at a two), so he hangs back by the bar instead, nursing drink #3 as he stares at the bodies before him. The lights flash, neon and bright, but then Kuroo yelps when a body slams into him, making him spill his long island ice tea down the front of his jacket. 

“Shit, I’m sorry man!” The guy says, distracted.

Kuroo makes a face as he sets his drink down, going to unzip his hoodie to tie it around his waist, and when he looks back up, the dude who bumped him is staring at him wordlessly, eyes wide. 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow, annoyed. “You gonna buy me another drink?” He says loudly, over the music.

The dude blinks, but then a smile blooms across his face, so bright that Kuroo is startled. 

“I’d love to! What do you want? I’ll buy you whatever you want!”

Kuroo honestly wasn’t really expecting such an enthusiastic answer, but also he wasn’t expecting a guy wearing shutter shades to crowd him against the bar and happily spend fifteen dollars on an overpriced drink for him. 

“Uh, I’ll take a Mojito, please,” Kuroo says, deadpan and kind of in awe, because honestly, who  _ is _ this guy? How did he even get into this nice, high-end club wearing shutter shades, glow stick bracelets, and Birkenstocks? The bouncer at the front almost didn’t let Kuroo in because he was simply wearing a ratty hoodie and skinny jeans. 

“I’m Bokuto, by the way!” The dude says cheerfully, after handing Kuroo his drink. “But, most people know me as Kyle Benedict. That’s my DJ name!”

Ah, so he’s a DJ. That’s why he’s dressed like that and was still allowed entry. Huh. 

“Kyle Benedict?” Kuroo snorts, because the name sounds stiff and fake on his tongue. He guesses it is supposed to be a psuedo, but  _ still _ . 

Bokuto pouts. “Well, what’s your name?”

“Kuroo,” Kuroo offers, taking a sip of his drink, but then his eyes widen when Bokuto hums and pops something into his mouth. Kuroo gets a brief flash of  _ small _ ,  _ chalky and round _ , and his eyes narrow. “Yo, is that  _ ecstasy _ , dude?”

Bokuto glances up from his phone, tilting his head to the side like a confused bird before crunching loudly on the thing in his mouth. “What? No. It’s a smartie. You want one?”

He pulls a baggie out of his pocket, and sure enough, there’s an abundance of smarties rattling around. What the fuck. 

Kuroo throws back his drink until it burns in his throat. 

“Are you performing tonight?” He asks, his voice raspy because  _ shit _ , that’s strong. He takes another calculated drink, feeling his limbs loosen and his stance leaning closer to Bokuto. The guy seems to radiate positive energy, and Kuroo leeches off of it like a dying man. Oikawa was right, he  _ was _ vibing pretty badly lately. 

“Nah, I go on tomorrow though. I’m only here ‘cause my sponsor asked me to hand out promo cards.”

“Oh,” Kuroo says, trying not to watch the way Bokuto’s forearms flex when he reaches up to slip his shutter shades off. His eyes are a striking amber, glittering under the strobe lights around them, and they’re zoomed in on Kuroo’s face, calculating and unreadable. 

“You wanna dance?” He says, leaning closer. 

“Ah,” Kuroo winces, “I don’t - ”

Bokuto’s hand circles his wrist, eager like a puppy but his gaze a little darker now, and Kuroo can feel beads of sweat sticking his shirt to his back. It’s warm in here, and he’s already three drinks and a shot in. His stupid breakup has taken a backseat in his brain, and for the first time all week, Kuroo feels exhilarated. 

“Okay,” he breathes, and Bokuto flashes a grin at him, waiting for Kuroo to finish his drink before dragging him into the crowd of people on the dance floor. It’s packed on a Friday night, and Kuroo’s quickly pressing close to Bokuto for fear of losing him in the crowd. A strong arm wraps around him, a palm pressing against his lower back, and Kuroo closes his eyes and lets his hands cup the sides of Bokuto’s neck, feeling the tendons flex as Bokuto cranes his head down to talk into Kuroo’s ear,

“You here alone?”

Kuroo snorts. “I came with a friend, but he seems more interested in the DJ.”

“Tendou?” Bokuto sounds incredulous. 

Kuroo shrugs, because he doesn’t really care, but also because Bokuto’s shoulders are so damn broad Kuroo’s knees feel a little weak at the sight of them. He’s not very good at dancing, let alone keeping a rhythm, so he tries to follow Bokuto’s lead and not reveal just how much he’s clueless right now. He’s tipsy, but not nearly drunk enough to impress hot up-and-coming DJ’s with his mediocre grinding abilities.

Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the way he’s pulling Kuroo closer is an indicator. The lights are starting to give Kuroo a headache, so he closes his eyes and presses his face into Bokuto’s shoulder, winding his arms tight around his neck and rolling his hips to whatever shitty dance song is currently playing. 

“You sure you don’t want a smartie?” Bokuto asks again, and his breath tickles Kuroo’s ear. 

Kuroo pulls back a bit and  _ laughs _ , loud and open. “Who  _ are _ you? Seriously?”

Bokuto furrows his brow. “We already introduced ourselves. How many drinks have you had?”

“No, just,” Kuroo says, and oh god, his stomach clenches. He can  _ feel _ himself getting attached. He can feel himself wanting to hold on tight, weasel his way into this guy’s life and get personal way too fast. Then he’ll get dumped again, a few months in, and Kuroo will wash-rinse-repeat all over again. Kuroo can practically  _ hear  _ Oikawa’s resonating sigh right now. 

“I should… I should probably go find my friend,” Kuroo says, trying not to stare at the endearing way Bokuto’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Fuck, he’s so cute, it’s unfair. 

“Oh,” Bokuto says, “Do you need help finding him?”

Kuroo waves his hand. “Uh, I’m fine. Thanks for the drink, good luck tomorrow!”

Kuroo shoves through a few people, aiming to get away because the drop in his stomach is unpleasant at best. He  _ liked _ Bokuto, he was having fun, why the fuck would he run away from something like that? 

Shit. He’s moping. That’s why. 

He rubs his temples with his fingers, getting ready to try and hunt down Oikawa and drag him home because he really needs to lie down, but he jumps when two hands land on his shoulders, and when he looks up, Oikawa’s flushed face is grinning at him. 

“Bitch, I got us bottle service!” He breathes, breath already smelling of candy vodka. “Aren’t you glad your best friend is insta-famous?”

“You barely have five hundred followers.”

“You’re just jealous,” Oikawa sings, grabbing Kuroo by the hand and tugging. “ _ C’mon, _ I wanna get drunk enough that the DJ willingly takes a snapchat video with me.”

Kuroo groans and lets himself be dragged back into the heat of the club. 

 

\--

 

When Kuroo wakes up, it feels like a jackhammer has plowed straight into his skull and scrambled up his brains. 

The blind are cracked, and sunlight streams in. He had a class this morning, but god knows he’s already missed it. He fumbles in his pocket for his cell phone, but he stiffens when he notices he’s only in a pair of boxers and a tee shirt that doesn’t belong to him. 

Come to think of it, this bed isn’t his either. He sits up and looks around, and his stomach plummets when he realizes he has no idea where he is. Holy fuck, how much did he drink last night? He’s going to  _ kill _ Oikawa. 

The door creaks open, and Kuroo poises, ready to fight or run if he has to, but then Bokuto’s cheerful face appears and Kuroo’s body deflates, but only a little. He’s still confused as fuck and - wait - 

“Where the fuck am I?” Kuroo rasps, throat scratchy and dry. Bokuto wanders further in, a bottle of water in his hand that he gives to Kuroo once he’s close enough, and then Bokuto takes a seat on the edge of the bed. His hair is damp and swept out of his face, much different than the gelled up spikes he had at the club last night, and he’s wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of joggers. 

“You’re at my apartment,” Bokuto says, grinning sheepishly. “Do you… remember anything?”

Kuroo groans and closes his eyes. “Do I  _ want _ to remember?”

Bokuto laughs, but it’s gentle, and Kuroo peeks his eyes open to see Bokuto rubbing the back of his neck, smile still quirked on his lips. 

“It wasn’t that bad!” He says, tapping his foot on the ground. “Uh, you were gone for a while, after we danced, but then I ran into you again later. You were with your friend, the one you lost, and when I asked if you found him alright, you kinda just…. whined really loudly? And gestured to me a lot while your friend laughed.”

“Oh no,” Kuroo whispers. 

“It was cute!” Bokuto reassures, patting Kuroo on the knee. “Then you called me hot and said you wanted to fuck me with my shutter shades on.”

“Oh  _ no _ ,” Kuroo laments, falling back into the pillows and nearly spilling his water bottle all over the bed. Bokuto cackles loudly, and Kuroo winces at the noise, shooting pain straight to his blossoming headache. 

“Ah, sorry, sorry!” Bokuto says gently, covering his mouth, but he’s still grinning. “Your friend ended up disappearing again for a bit, and I kinda hung out with you until he got back. But uh, he never came back? I think he left with Tendou.”

“The DJ?” Kuroo asks, and when Bokuto nods, Kuroo hums thoughtfully. “Nice.”

“Anyways, you were  _ really _ drunk, and I was scared you were gonna throw up or something and choke on your own vomit - I saw an ER episode about that once, it was super scary - so I took you home with me so I could keep an eye on you!”

Bokuto looks proud, but also a little nervous, as if he’s scared Kuroo is going to yell at him or something, but honestly Kuroo doesn’t have the energy for anything at the moment, so he just sighs and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Did we?” Kuroo mumbles quietly, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit. 

Bokuto blinks.”Did we what?”

“Um,” Kuroo clears his throat. “Did we, you know. Have sex? Or whatever?”

Bokuto’s eyes widen in understand, and soon he’s waving his hands and shaking his head. “Oh! No, nonono, you were  _ way _ too drunk for that, dude, I could never - ”

Kuroo feels his heart clench in a good way, and he can feel himself falling harder and harder, and fuck, he hardly  _ knows _ the guy. But there’s this happy squirming deep in his stomach, and when he looks up, Bokuto can’t seem to look him in the eye. It’s kind of adorable, actually. 

“Did I try anything?” Kuroo asks thoughtfully, taking another drink of the water bottle. Bokuto coughs. 

“Uh, yeah, haha. But… but you mostly just touched my hair? And you kept petting my arms,” Bokuto muses, remembering the details of the night. “Oh, you were really nauseous too, but you seemed to calm down a lot when I hugged you so I did that for a while, until you fell asleep.”

Kuroo sighs, feeling embarrassed. “ _ Fuck _ . I’m sorry, dude. I’m sure babysitting a piss-ass drunk, clingy college kid wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend your Friday night.”

“I didn’t mind!” Bokuto exclaims, much too enthusiastically. . 

Kuroo glances up at him, and when he sees another light flush coloring Bokuto’s cheeks, he swallows thickly. 

“Ah - I’m gonna make breakfast. Feel free to use the shower!” Bokuto says quickly, his words shaking a bit as he scrambles out of the room and calling out, “Towels are under the sink!”

Kuroo glances over when he hears a vibrating noise, and he spots his phone sitting on the nightstand. He grabs for it desperately, switching it on to see a barrage of messages from Oikawa. 

The first message he opens is just an abundance of eggplant emojis. Kuroo groans. 

_**Oikawa (9:20am):** ya boi got some dick!!! _

_**Oikawa (9:20am):** also why the fuck didnt u tell me u knew kyle benedict?? his soundcloud is my workout anthem. can u get him to follow me back on IG _

_**Oikawa (9:21am):** tetsu-channnnnnnnn pls text me back so i kno you didnt die. if u die im feeding ur cat to my succulents _

Kuroo rubs his temples. 

_**Kuroo (9:22am):** im alive. dont feed my cat to ur plants _

_**Oikawa (9:22am):** TETSU!!!!!!!!  _

Oikawa sends him a few more texts about his nightly adventure, and personally, he sends way more detail than Kuroo needs to know about. He can feel a wave of nausea hit him, and he takes a deep breath. He really should shower. And maybe empty all the leftover contents in his stomach first. 

He uses Bokuto’s body wash and shampoo and tries not to think too hard about it, and once he’s done he shoves his boxers back on and whatever tee shirt he was wearing before. He doesn’t know where his own clothes are, but most likely they either got something spilled on them, or Kuroo puked on them. He’s hoping it's the former. 

The smell of food wafts from the kitchen, and Kuroo walks in, his footsteps quiet. Bokuto has shed his sweatshirt, now in just a tank top as he hums to himself. He’s standing at the stove, scrambling some eggs in a pan, and Kuroo swallows as he sees his shoulder blades flex beneath the tight fabric of his tank. There are a smattering of freckles across the tops of Bokuto’s shoulders too, and it’s not  _ fair _ , Kuroo thinks. Not fair at all. 

“This feels suspiciously like the morning after,” Kuroo points out, walking closer and leaning on the counter next to the stove to watch Bokuto cook. 

“Except for the part where we didn’t have sex,” Bokuto laughs, and his smile is really something else. Kuroo clenches his hands into fists, taking a deep breath, and thinks  _ screw it _ . 

“We should… amend that,” he says quietly, but his voice is determined and sharp. 

Bokuto flicks his gaze towards Kuroo, and when he darts a tongue out to wet his lips, Kuroo finds himself gravitating closer. 

“Thanks for taking care of me last night,” Kuroo says, his fingers twitching with the need to grab Bokuto’s elbow and pull him in. “But for the record, I  _ do _ want to fuck you, too.”

Bokuto grins. “With my shutter shades on?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, reaching out and tugging at the hem of Bokuto’s tank top. “Yeah, why the fuck not?”

“Cool,” Bokuto says, setting the pan of eggs off the burner for a moment to he can turn to Kuroo and circle his arms around him. Kuroo groans happily and sinks into the warmth, because  _ damn _ , this is nice. Sober-Kuroo can totally see why Drunk-Kuroo calmed down so much with a hug like this. 

“But also, cause I  _ really  _ like you, I wanna take you out later, if that’s cool too?” Bokuto says into the side of Kuroo’s neck. “Maybe to a movie or something? ”

Kuroo laughs, because who fuckin’ cares if he’s attached already? He might as well just go for it, as Oikawa always tells him to do. If all else fails, he always has House Hunters to crawl back too. 

Kuroo pulls back from the hug a bit, and he grips Bokuto’s chin gently, bringing him in for a kiss. Bokuto hums and holds him closer. The eggs are slowly getting cold next to them, but Bokuto’s tongue is warm where it flicks against the seam of his lips. Kuroo grins into the kiss.  

He has a good feeling about this one.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/wecametofuck) & [tumblr](https://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com)


End file.
